Can I Trust You?
by Life Starts Now
Summary: There is a distinct lack of slash in the Gone pairing - so I've decided to make up for it. This story is m/m, SamXDrake angst. Obviously, it is not canon.


**A/N: First slash story! There is a distinct lack of slash in the Gone Fandom, so I decided to add some. (I don't consider Brianna and Dekka slash because it ~might~ be cannon). Of course, this would actually never happen. Drake is dead, Sam hates him, and I'm sure they're both straight. But that's the fun part about slash! **

Sam crashed through the trees. Twigs scratched his face, branches walloped him in the chest as he ran past, and it seemed like everything out there was conspiring to trip him. Certainly the rocks had formed an alliance against him.

It was dark. Sam hated the dark. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't summon the light.

He didn't know what he was running from. Not Drake. Drake wouldn't hurt him. He would've laughed to himself at that, except his insides curdled at _why_ Drake wouldn't touch a hair on his head.

Maybe he wasn't running from Drake. _Maybe I'm running from myself. At what I did. _

And that was why he couldn't summon the light. It wasn't anger he felt, or even fear. Shame. Shame so repulsive and nauseating that his lips burned at the memory at what he'd done.

Perfect chance. He'd had the perfect chance to kill Drake. The sadist, the killer – he'd threatened dozens, hurt others, killed many. Almost killed Sam. Almost killed _Astrid._

He hated the boy more than he hated anyone, didn't he?

Right?

When he'd heard the Darkness had let Drake live, that the psychopath hadn't died, he should've felt anger or even fear. But instead, relief._ Relief_. Relief!

And just now, when Drake had challenged him to a fight, when they'd stood across from each other, alone, glaring . . .

_Why didn't I kill him?_

"Sam!" Drake roared through the trees.

_He's coming after me!_

"Sam! I won't hurt you!"

The worst part was that Sam already knew that. Knew it, deep inside his heart. Somehow.

"Sam, just stop, damn it! Stop! Wait! I can explain!"

No, there was no freaking way to explain what had just happened. That Sam had held up his hands, ready to burn Drake to a crisp. And he hadn't been able to do it.

Hadn't been able to kill him.

And Drake had wrapped his whip around Sam's waist, and dragged him closer, and then . . .hadn't killed him.

Done something much worse.

It made Sam want to scream at the memory. Instead, he ran on. Half a mile and he'd reach the beach. Then he could get someone, anyone else to kill Drake. Anyone but him.

_Why did Drake – why did he – why did he kiss me?_

It was wrong. Wrong in so many ways. They were both guys. They were enemies. Sam had Astrid. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

His lips burned at the memory.

"Sam!" Drake yelled. "Wait up! I'm sorry, okay! Just listen to me explain!"

_Closer! He's closer!_ Sam picked up the pace. He turned around for one second, and gasped when he saw Drake scarcely ten feet behind.

_He's close!_

"Wait!" Drake screamed.

And then he tackled Sam.

Sam found himself face down on the ground, eating dirt. Drake's heavy weight crushed him. He gasped for breath.

"Listen to me," Drake whispered in his ear, his hot breath on Sam's skin. "Listen, okay? The reason I did what I did . . . the reason I kissed you . . . it's because I love you."

No! No! No! Sam wanted to scream. He couldn't believe that this cruel killer could posses any emotion. And god, not toward _him._

"Ever since the day we met. I tried to deny it. That's why I hurt you, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't want to be, you know, gay. But I love you, okay? It's crazy, I know. I realized, when I died you know, back at in the Darkness, that I didn't want to die without telling you the truth."

Was he _crying_? God, he couldn't be _crying_, could he?

"Let me up." Sam managed.

Drake got up. Held out a hand. Sam ignored it, rose to his feet on his own. He eyed Drake warily, eyed the tearstains, tear streaks.

He_ had_ been crying.

Sam held out his hands. Palms facing Drake. "I should kill you. Kill you right now."

Drake give a smirk, the slightest reminder of the old Drake. "Yeah, you should. Why haven't you?" He wiped away the tears, stood strong, tall. "Though if you decide to, I couldn't think of a better death."

"I should kill you." Sam said again. Because he didn't know what else to say. Drake had to die. He was an awful person. He'd killed plenty, hurt plenty more. He'd hurt Sam. So badly, in a way that Sam would never forget.

"You know," Drake said. "We're more alike. We're more alike then you've got any idea. Both strong. Feared and hated for our strength. Brave. Clever." He leered at Sam.

"We're nothing alike." Sam snarled back, although each word resounded inside of him. "And I'm not feared the way you are. You're freaking insane."

"People are afraid of you. They're afraid of you because you're strong. And they don't understand you. But I get that." Drake gave a low, hoarse laugh. "Crazy, isn't it?"

It was crazy. It was _freaking insane._

Sam couldn't hold his hands up any long. Somehow, they dropped. Drake took this as an invitation to step closer, until only half an inch of air kept them apart. The distance should have made Sam's skin crawl. But it didn't. Why not? Why freaking not?

"I get you." Drake said. He reached out. Touched Sam's cheek. For some reason, Sam didn't flinch away. _Why not? Why can't I move?_

He was mesmerized. All he wanted, in his heart, was to stand right there and let Drake touch him.

"I shouldn't trust you," Sam said. He started to tremble. He knees went weak. "You've hurt me before, you'll do it again if I don't kill you."

"No," Drake breathed. His face grew closer to Sam's. "No. I won't."

"I shouldn't trust you."

"No." Drake breathed. His lips were the barest distance from Sam's, until they almost brushed. "You should."

"Promise you won't hurt me." Promises meant nothing to a psychopath. Sam knew that. But the words fell from his mouth before he could stop them.

Drake wrapped cupped his face with two hands. "I will never hurt you. I would rather die."

And they kissed, and this time, Sam couldn't bring himself to wrench away.

He shouldn't trust Drake. He shouldn't. He'd hurt so many, so many people. Including Sam. He was the enemy. Wasn't he? Sam hated him. _Shouldn't he?_

_But damn, he's a good kisser . . ._

**A/N: **

**I keep abusing the italics button. Damn **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story! Please review! **


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